In the hairsprayed mists of New Wave's Golden Era, I pursued radio stations where I could listen nonstop to Siouxsie & the Banshees, the Lotus Eaters, The Clash, The Cure, The Ramones, the-what-have-yous.
In college I pursued flat ones (in my Literature subjects, at least) and the poetic muse. Soon thereafter, in the labor force, I pursued good pay, fun officemates, creative environments, dollar-compensated consultancies, good books, sidelines.
Once married, I pursued the obstetrician, the pediatrician, the toddler ambling towards the gate, the same toddler about to pop a toy into his mouth, and another squishy, squirming infant trying to wriggle from his bath.
So why not pursue God this time, indeed?
It took a 62-year-old book to nudge me onto this track.
Aiden W. Tozer's "The Pursuit of God: The Human Thirst for the Divine" has been my midnight companion for three nights now (though unfortunately, not three consecutive nights). Still, each time I finished a chapter--vaguely anticipatory, barely conscious of a rising hope and excitement within me--I had the strangest, most delightful sensation that God was just getting started with me.
So here I am, getting ready for the fourth chapter tomorrow.
And all this running after has driven me to thirst for more. But this thirst, while enlivening me and egging me on, does not carry with it the sour edge of envy, nor the bitter aftertaste of regret, and not even the utter blandness of self-pity, nor any of the negative emotions that accompany unhealthy thirsts.
The spirit within me knows--this thirst is good. The pursuit of its quenching, better. The One who alone can quench: the best.
Let's drink up this Holy Week, shall we?
